Pretty Girls in the Vip (9781617730283) (28 page)

“Maybe you forgot and brought it out.”

“I didn't, unless one of my boys forgot it. I'm sure I didn't. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I can't go to jail. This will mess up my life. Shanice, it's my car, so they are going to look at me. You have to take this for me. Just say it was yours and I didn't know it was in the car. I'll call my uncle and he will bail us out.”

The officer came over to us and asked Jabril to stand, then they leaned him against the car and handcuffed him. He looked over at me and said to say it was mine. I lip-synced “okay” to him. Moments later, a woman officer came and frisked me then placed me under arrest.

Without him asking, I knew I would take the case for him. I would never want him to hurt his reputation or see him in jail, but I also know he had to look out for me.

S
ometimes you have to see things with your own eyes, and I had to see if everything the agents had told me was true for myself. They needed evidence that I was not involved in any of the extortion business, and I planned to cooperate with them and give them whatever they needed. I bought a spy voice-recorder pen and I planned to get a confession out of Ian's ass.

I flew into Miami under the radar. I thought about driving down, but I knew driving would make me too tired to kick their ass. I also didn't want to tempt myself with stopping in Georgia and buying a gun. I'd heard Georgia had a really lax gun law. I don't want to lose it, but I'm not sure what my reaction is going to be when I see the two of them together. If I see that airhead-bitch-who-probably-couldn't-count-to-twelve Joi chick in my condo, using my stuff, sleeping in my bed, I might just lose it and kill him and her with my own two hands.

The entire flight I pondered why all of this was happening to me. In my past, I wasn't the best person, but I thought I'd fixed and made up for all of my bad choices. I was a business owner now, and I worked hard every day. I took care of my mother and daughter.

This all was not fair at all. Why would Ian bring drugs in my club, set up my customers, and fuck one of my employees in my damn house? If I did decide to kill them, it would be justified.

 

My flight landed in Miami, and I rented a car and began my drive home. Home didn't feel the same. Crossing the bridge into South Beach, which I had traveled so many times before, just didn't feel right. The blue sky and water weren't as inviting, because my mind was gray with clever thoughts and ways to surprise my houseguests. I laughed in the car by myself at the audacity and stupidity of both of them. Did they really think they were going to get over on me? They should have known better.

I parked around the corner from my condo. I said hello to the doormen and waited for the elevator to arrive. I made it to the door and tried my key. It didn't work. This motherfucker had changed my locks. He had truly lost his mind. I was really mad now. How was it possible that I couldn't gain access to my own place? I got so enraged I banged on the door and received no answer. I was tempted to kick the door in, but I didn't know what was on the other side. I gathered my luggage and went back downstairs to the building's front desk.

“Excuse me, I am locked out of number 2317.” I showed them my identification. “Did my fiancé happen to leave a copy of our key down here?” He looked over at my file and said, “No, but we can call you a locksmith?” I knew a locksmith would take too long and I needed to get inside before they came home. “Never mind, I'll just call him,” I said as I saw the maintenance man, Philip. I flashed a hundred-dollar bill at him and told him my dilemma. He helped me in my apartment without a fuss in minutes.

“Gracias,
señor
.” I thanked him once more, then smiled and stepped into my condo.

Two feet in, I could see they were really living in my damn house. What was going to be his excuse for all of this? This really goes to show that men aren't worth shit. Every single last one of them, even the artistic, romantic, fight-the-power, save-the-planet types. I became so angry I ran into his office and began taking his camera and computer equipment and slamming it to the floor. I then dumped water on all of it. He'll never make another movie! After I destroyed all his equipment, I found everything that belonged to her inside my daughter's room. Her clothes and shoes. I snatched it all out of my Asia's closet. Anything that touched her filthy body shouldn't be anywhere near my child's stuff. I took all her belongings and sat it at the door. I placed the pen in the living room on the table and waited for them to arrive.

 

I waited for less than twenty minutes before Joi and Ian came in. They walked in, giggling and happy, until they saw me. I stood up and Joi ran behind him. He put his plastic bag full of takeout from his favorite vegetarian restaurant on the counter. Ghost, aliens, a leprechaun—all of these were probably more believable than seeing me in the condo.

“Where did you get that food from, Ian? Pull out some plates, I'm hungry, too. Joi, how are you doing? Next time you quit a job, give two weeks' notice. It is called consideration.” They both were in shock and still silent. My calm crazy was freaking them out, they had no idea what I was about to do.

“How did my stuff get out here?” Joi asked, suddenly realizing she was being evicted. Her stack of belongings lay haphazardly at the door.

“Bitch, because you're moving. You're very lucky I don't whoop your ass right now. Then call the cops and tell them you've been living in my apartment without my permission with my man. I'm sure they are going to tell you, you should be grateful to still have your life. Get your stuff and get the fuck out my house before I kill you.” She chose to be smart and began to move her things out the door.

Ian didn't bother following her. He sat at the table and began eating his food like nothing had just happened. I stood across from him, still angry. I wanted to hurt him, but I couldn't. I needed him to talk.

“Ian, I need to know what is going on. What the hell are you doing with Joi? And tell me, why aren't my customers coming back? Why am I hearing all these rumors about you, your cousin, and my club, drugs, and cameras?”

“I don't know about anything like that,” he lied.

“Ian, I know about everything. How could you do this to me?”

I stood over him. I was ready to hurt him, but instead I remembered to grab the pen and sit at the table with him.

“Are you going to tell me the truth or continue to lie to me?”

“All right. I did place cameras in the club, Adrienne. The cameras were for just in case anything happened. I did it to help you out. That's why I was able to know that Nerv Trap started the fight. I did it for you.”

“You did it for you, not me. If you did it for me, why not just tell me. Huh? You didn't do shit for me, you fucking liar.” I couldn't control my rage anymore, so I took my hand and slapped the food from in front of him. I missed and he didn't budge. He sighed and just started talking.

“Adrienne, you know I'm an artist. I'm the guy that makes films and movies. I never was your type. I always knew in the back of my mind that maybe I wasn't good enough. That I would never make enough money for you. That was my fear—what if I never become a successful filmmaker? How would I be able to provide a good life for you? I didn't deal with Asia, not because I didn't want to, but because I was scared of getting my heart broken twice. I didn't want to come into the stepfather role until I could take care of her and her mother. Adrienne, I didn't want to be just that guy with a dream. I was so proud of you when we opened the club. One day you were saying that's a good idea, and then the next thing I knew, we were at the grand opening in another city. But the hotter the club was becoming, the more we grew apart. I asked you to come to see me. I asked you to help me with the movie, and you refused. I had this same dream of making a movie for years and years, and it never came true. I wanted it to work. I wanted to be on so bad. Remember what you said when we were in L.A.? You said, let's open the club, then film the movie. But when the club started being successful, you forgot about me. Then that same night you said, what if my movie doesn't sell? At that moment, I knew you didn't have any confidence in me and that you didn't believe in me and we wouldn't work.”

“I wasn't saying it like that.” I rubbed my temple. He was telling me so much. I just couldn't bear hearing it all.

“Then I gave you that ring because I knew I could lose you at any moment, and I said let me hold on to her. Let me show her I'm real, but it was too small for you. How do you think that made me feel? I knew you was dealing with that attorney guy, and I couldn't get mad because Joi had already come on to me and told me everything you were doing from the beginning. And I had the proof right in front of me. But I still loved you and somehow I wanted us to still work.”

“So, that made you set everyone up and extort my clients.”

“No, I didn't extort anyone. Keldrick did everything. Initially, Keldrick asked me could him and his friends hustle a little coke out the club, I said no. I knew you wouldn't want that in Belize, but he didn't listen and he did it anyway and gave me a cut, and one thing led to another. I installed the cameras, and we set the first person up, and then the second person, and it was so easy. We made one phone call or sent one text with a picture of them snorting or with a girl at the hotel and they gave us money for it all to go away.”

Tears were coming down, and I wanted to turn off the tape recorder. I hated looking at him. He'd hurt me. I wanted to forgive him, and I wanted to help him. I think in my entire life he was the only man I'd really loved and I knew without any doubt that he loved me. And the sad thing is, I was just realizing it right now. He didn't deserve to go to jail, he was a good guy. I wanted to give him a heads-up and maybe we could both blame everything on Keldrick.

W
hen I put the weed bag underneath the driver's seat, I wasn't thinking that Jabril could possibly get in trouble. Yes. I knew it was his car, but I didn't think he would be in the car with her. I thought she would be alone. I called the police around 2
A.M.
and told them I wanted to make an anonymous tip about a drug deal about to go down. I gave them the car's license plate number and a description of the seller, and I told them exactly what that whore looked like.

Adrienne had told me to get rid of her, and I knew that was a surefire way to do that, but now I might have just ruined Jabril's NBA career in the process.

I feel so sick, like this baby is going to come up through my throat. I know for sure that Jabril is going to test positive for marijuana. He smoked right before he left, and he was probably still high now. Oh God, I wish I could talk to someone, but I couldn't admit any of this to anyone. I didn't know what to do.

Oh God, what if they fingerprint the bag of weed?
I thought.
Then my fingerprints will be all over the bag.
I was so terrible at being bad. I paced back and forth and tried Wendell's phone again, no answer, then Claudette. Neither one of them answered. I felt trapped and sick. I had fucked up really bad. I just wanted to get her away from my man. I didn't want my man to go to jail.

By 5
A.M.
, the morning news was on, and they kept repeating the same four stories every twenty minutes. The news anchor's voice was irritating. The way he said, “Camden, New Jersey, native Jabril Smith, who plays for the NBA's Oklahoma Thunder, was arrested overnight by the Philadelphia police for marijuana possession. He was pulled over in a vehicle driven by an unknown female.”

I turned the television off. I couldn't take hearing any more.
Didn't anyone else do anything this morning? I'm sure someone was robbed. Please stop saying his name, and God, please help Jabril
.
Please forgive me.

I called Wendell again. He answered, but rushed off the phone. He said he was down at the police station trying to get Jabril out of there. I started crying hysterically, and he passed the phone to Claudette.

“Zakiya, don't worry about Jabril. He is going to be okay. I don't know who the little hoe was in the car with him, but she should not have been smoking weed around my baby.”

“Claudette, I don't want him to go to jail,” I cried.

“He is not going to. The attorneys are here, and they are advising us of the next move.”

“I really messed up,” I said aloud.

“You didn't mess up, Zakiya. This is not your fault. This is my dumb-ass son's fault, don't you dare blame yourself.” I couldn't believe I'd slipped up and said that. If Claudette had known it was me who set up her precious baby, she would have strangled me.

I paced and prayed that my baby was balling up, too. She knew what her dumb mommy had done. I fell asleep on the sofa when Claudette ran into the living room shouting, “Jabril is getting out.” We drove over to Philly to meet him and Wendell at the police station.

We arrived to see news crews positioned in the front and the back of the building. The police showed Bril kindness and let us leave through a side entrance. Jabril leaped in the waiting SUV led by Wendell and his attorney. He was released because the girl he was with had confessed to the drugs, and I sighed in relief because he was out and safe and no charges were being brought against him.